


first class tenderfoot

by quellfrost (tascioni)



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tascioni/pseuds/quellfrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fic where Harvey is a boy scout. Or he was, but he could've been an Eagle scout if he'd only gotten a few more badges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	first class tenderfoot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElectricKettle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricKettle/gifts), [MajaLi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajaLi/gifts).



> because arineat and maja_li are totally ridiculous and i hate them both. ):< also, I've spent too much time on [scouting.org](http://www.scouting.org/About/FactSheets/EagleScouts.aspx) looking up Scout ranks and merit badges. *___* SO WE'RE DONE WITH THIS, RIGHT? NO MORE OF THIS--THIS _NON-SENSE_

These things start, as all things do, because Harvey is an asshole. Of course, that isn’t the only reason because that is most certainly _not_ the reason that has Mike kneeling under Harvey’s desk, fumbling with the zipper of said man’s pants and all in all, breaking sexual conduct codes 1 through 362 with the utmost efficiency. No, that’s one Mike has no choice but to plead guilty to.

Besides, it nearly 11pm, and there shouldn’t even be anyone else here in the first place (which, sure, sort of defeats the purpose of the thrill of getting caught, but.)—no one other than Harvey and Mike that is.

“Fuck,” says Mike as he pulls out Harvey’s half-hard cock and gives it a few quick strokes. “I have been thinking about this all day, you have no idea.”

Harvey gives a something of a half chuckle, half breathless snort. “That’s cute, really,” he says, smirking down at him. He reaches down and runs a thumb across Mike’s upper lip. “What,” he says, voice low. “Lunch wasn’t enough for you?”

“You’re still talking,” Mike replies disapprovingly. “Why are you still talking?” He promptly swallows Harvey down, pushing past his gag reflex and taking it as far as possible, groaning deliciously at the stretch.

Harvey groans, and a hand runs through Mike’s hair, gripping it firmly at the base. Mike hums encouragingly, bobbing his head as—

 _“Harvey!”_ The door slams open.

Mike nearly chokes, and Harvey’s hand tightens reflexively.

"What did you say to Slauson?" he hears Jessica ask dangerously as she slams something heavy down on the desk.

Heart pounding rapidly, Mike attempts to extricate himself from the current situation. He's played Left4Dead. _He can do this._ He carefully pulls his head back, but forgets just how close he is to the surface of the desk and ends up whacking his head against the mahogany. Harvey nearly knees him in the face.

"Sorry," Harvey says from up above. "I just had a knee-jerk reaction to the condescending implications of your words."

"Fix this, Harvey," Jessica says, carefully enunciating every syllable. "We are not losing a client because you can't play nice in the sandbox."

"It's a small sandbox," Harvey calls after her. "And I had the bucket first!"

"Oh Jesus," Mike mutters under his breath, letting his head thump loudly against the back of the desk when he hears the tell-tale sound of Jessica’s heels clacking farther and farther away. "How is this my life."

  


*

  
"I was an Eagle Scout," says Harvey. "Client wants a Scout Leader? I can totally do this."

Donna snorts. "No, you can't," she informs him.

"What do you mean I can't?" he says, turning to face her. "Of course, I can. Do you know what the honor of being an Eagle Scout is worth, Donna? Because let me tell you, it's a lot."

"You're not an Eagle Scout," Donna says meanly. "You never have been."

"Donna," Harvey says smoothly, straightening his tie. "Just because some people think that all Scouts are geeky and awkward does not make any less valuable in climbing the ranks of the world."

"Harvey," says Donna, not even bothering to tone down her disdain. "I've kept your records. You never finished your 21 badges."

Harvey stares at her, hand at his throat. "What," he says flatly.

She pats him on the chest. "Tough," she says in a stage whisper. "So much for always being prepared."

  


*

Mike—well, Mike, he—There must be something in the water because none of Harvey's terrorizing techniques work very well when he tries to make Mike clear up this obvious mistake in record-keeping.

"You can't just pass that off," Mike says, horrified. "Did you lose all of your Scout's Honor when you went to Harvard?"

Harvey stares at him. "Excuse me?" he says, incredulous. "Scout's Honor? You're kidding me, right?"

Mike shakes his head at him. "I can't believe you," he says. "As an Eagle Scout myself, I cannot, in my good conscience, let this go."

"Excuse me?" Harvey repeats, because clearly, somewhere along the line, Harvey has lost all authority and no one has bothered to tell him. (He resists checking his back for "Kick Me!" post-its.)

"That's abhorrent, Harvey," he says. "I should demote you Tenderfoot for that." He squints at his boss. "Did you even actually make it to Tenderfoot?"

  


*

  
That night, Harvey fucks into Mike, hard and ruthless.

Mike rolls his hips, gasping, hands scrabbling at Harvey's back for purchase. "Oh fuck," he says, squeezing his eyes shut and arching up, off the bed into Harvey as their chests move against each other, flush and desperate.

"Oh, fuck, oh fuck yes," he moans when Harvey grabs him by the hips and pounds into him, the hand on his cock relentless and almost painful.

"How's that for Tenderfoot," Harvey demands, angling a sharp thrust that makes Mike lose his breath.

"Aaah," is all Mike can manage before he's coming all over his stomach, his vision white at the edges.

"I take it back," Mike says later, sprawled against the sheets, sleepy and sated. "You're at least First Class."

  


*

  
"I've been to 28 countries in the last 12 months," Harvey says, standing over Donna's desk.

Mike blinks at him. "Is that even legally possible?" he asks, brows furrowed.

"30, actually," Donna supplies helpfully, still looking far too gleeful to be appropriate. Harvey looks at her. "You had a stopover in Bangkok for--"

"Laos," Harvey finishes, nodding. "And I was in Vienna for--"

"Three hours before flying out to Berlin."

Mike stares at them, visibly struggling to keep a blank face. "Seriously," he says after a beat. "Is that even possible?"

"So," Harvey says abruptly. "That's a Citizen of the World if I ever saw one."

"What," says Mike, finally catching on. "What the—you can't do that!"

"I'm also a citizen of the United States and have been my entire life. That should cover Citizenship of the Nation, right, Donna?"

"Yes," says Donna, turning back to her computer.

"Are you serious right now," Mike says, resisting the urge to faceplant right onto the desk.

"Also," Harvey adds. "See this? This is communication. We're adequately communicating. That's a Communications badge."

Mike wisely stops trying to argue.

  


*

  
“Did you know,” Mike begins easily. “That the average age of boys who attain Eagle Scout status is 17?”

Harvey’s eyes narrow perceptibly. “Did you know,” replies Harvey. “That I have absolutely no qualms about handing you over to Louis? He’s been stuck with that divorce case since July. I’m sure he’d love some help.”

Mike takes two steps back. “Did you know,” he starts again, and ignoring the look on Harvey’s face, he presses on, “Louis was an Eagle?”

Harvey whirls his seat around. “Donna!” he yells, striding across the room. “Get Slauson on the phone.”

  


*

  
“So you see, Mr. Slauson,” Harvey says carefully, setting down his glass of Riesling. “As a former Scout myself, I feel obligated to inform you that the man most suited for your needs is none other than one of the other partners at the firm. I’m sure Louis will be more than happy to be a Scout Leader to your son.”

Slauson cuts another piece of filet mignon. “Hm,” he says thoughtfully. “I’ve heard good things about Louis,” he says finally. “Tell me more.”

  


*

  
“Seriously,” Mike says later, sprawled out on the sofa and flicking through the channels before settling on a Jersey Shore rerun. “Were you jealous of Louis? Is this the one thing Louis has over you?”

Harvey snorts. “Seriously,” he deadpans. “Your fixation on Louis is getting to stalker levels of creep.”

“I am just keeping on top of things,” Mike replies smoothly. “Also, nice deflection.”

Harvey smirks. “I thought so,” he says and loosens his tie.

  


*

  
“Harvey,” Louis says stiffly, eyeing him reproachfully. “I heard you had dinner with Slauson last night. Trying to drag down my reputation in your sinking ship?”

“I said nothing but good things,” Harvey says, clapping him on the back. “Scout’s honor.”

  


*

  
“You,” Harvey says, leaning over the counter to crowd into Donna’s space. “Are a menace to society.”

She frowns at him. “I know,” she says, voice plaintive. “Imagine what I could’ve done if I had your high school yearbook pictures.”

Harvey smirks, stepping back. “Put them on the front cover of Us Weekly?” he suggests. “I was voted Prom King.”

“Oh,” says Donna, now disinterested. “Did I say high school? I meant junior high.”


End file.
